


Called dibs

by MattLightwood (TanyaHarries)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Drinking, Flashback, M/M, a take on what happened at the banquet, drunk!Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaHarries/pseuds/MattLightwood
Summary: A little accident and some champagne lead living figure skating legend Viktor Nikiforov to the best night of his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based of [this](http://infinite-mirrors.tumblr.com/post/154232314285/this-episode-fulfilled-my-every-need-im-living-my) drawing! This idea's been nagging me for a while now so I had to, haha. Without further ado, please enjoy this mess!

Viktor’s mind was in another complete place while he chatted with one of the reporters at the traditional post _Grand Prix Final_ banquet. After years and years doing the same thing it was not difficult to disconnect his mind but still be able to give somewhat proper responses.

Mostly it was just the usual questions; _what are you planning for the next season?_ “Who knows, I like to impress the crowd” _. How does it feel to be the champion once again?_ “It feels like my hard work came to fruition” _. What did you think about the other skaters?_ “The competition was as always a constant challenge”. _What motivates someone like_ Viktor Nikiforov _?_

What motivated him? _He didn’t know_.

Still deep in thought, Viktor took a bad step to the side.

“Ah, Viktor!” the reporter said in alarm, but it was too late; Viktor crashed against one of the waiters and soon enough he was soaked in champagne.

The waiter was so terrified that he just spilled a whole plate of champagne into Viktor Nikiforov of all people.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir! Terribly sorry! I-I uhm, it wasn’t my-” the young waiter tried to explain, completely ignoring the fact that broken glasses surrounded them on the ground.

“Haha, it’s okay, my friend. It was my fault,” Viktor admitted between awkward giggles because it was _his_ fault; he was the one spacing out. “Can you direct me to the bathroom, please?”

The distressed waiter, red to his ears, pointed quickly in the bathroom’s direction and stood there in awe, not able to believe that the legend just told him it was okay to soak him in the best champagne they had.

Viktor moved between the crowd greeting and winking, trying to be the social and polite person he always was. Sometimes it was hard for him to be always on the spotlight; pretending to be okay was the hardest thing he ever had to do. He was being haunted by the same stupid question that sometimes left him awake through the night.

_What motivates me? What inspires me?_

The bathroom was surprisingly empty, and no one seemed to have followed him there, so Viktor rested his hands on the white marble sink to stare at his own reflection; the platinum hair perfectly styled, the blue eyes that shone with a light that didn’t come from inside of him. And the soaked tailored grey suit, which somehow was the only thing Viktor found interesting about his image at the moment.

When did it come to this? Viktor sold his soul to figure skating more than twenty years ago, so he wasn’t sure when did everything stop making sense. He was missing something important, but it was hard for him to figure out the answer when his life was based off the same principals and actions as years ago; always the same, but every time losing more and more.

He didn’t impress the crowd anymore. Winning gold medals and breaking records didn’t matter anything when everybody was expecting it from him; when he was young people used to scream and react to his performances, now all you could hear in the crowd ended with _“as always”_ all the time.

Some said he lost creativity, others that he was too old. But he knew that that wasn’t _it_.

Sighing all his frustrations out, Viktor plucked some tissues from its plastic dispenser against the wall and tried with no results to dry his suit as much as possible. It took him more than expected to get a decent result, but even with all the amount of cologne in the world he wouldn’t be able to hide the stench of the alcohol, and there was also a subtle stain on his favorite tie.

Perhaps he could use this opportunity to retire to his hotel room earlier; he needed some time to think about his life.

Viktor came back to the banquet, fidgeting with his suit jacket where the champagne stained it, when the whole place went silent and a cry interrupted the activity.

“I CALL DIBS!” someone yelled. Viktor’s head shoot up and he found himself staring at one of the other competitors (Katsuki Yuuri? He wasn’t sure), one that was completely wasted and wearing his tie around his head.

But more importantly, he was pointing at _him_. _Katsuki Yuuri_ was calling dibs on _him_.

Viktor was rarely left speechless, but there he was, at the end of the salon being stared at by everyone because this drunk skater was proclaiming Viktor as his.

His couch, Celestino, moved in his direction to stop him from doing more, but it was too late to stop the beast.

“YURI PLISETSKY, I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DANCE BATTLE!”

“Huh?!” Yuri was so surprised that he didn’t have time to react negatively.

The black haired, Japanese flushed skater dragged him to the dance floor and without even a cue: a hip hop song started playing. The game was on, and as much as Yuri didn’t like the situation, Viktor knew him well enough to know that embarrassment wasn’t going to stop him from wanting to be declared the winner. And Yuuri apparently wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

The series of events that followed happened in such a blur that Viktor thought for a moment that he was dreaming; never in all his career a banquet was interrupted abruptly by something like this. One moment Yuuri was dancing against Yuri, the other it was Christophe Giacometti the one challenging him, and then… this Japanese guy was dragging him by the hand.

“Dance with me, Viktor,” he muttered in such a seductive way that Viktor felt himself flushing a little. Katsuki Yuuri didn’t wait for his response, but instead started guiding him in the most passionate flamenco he ever witnessed.

And for a moment the banquet disappeared and Viktor was laughing; he was having the time of his life with this man he never spoken to. He was being moved, swung and twirled around the dance floor with something so strong that he couldn’t describe with words. _Passion_ maybe? Passion didn’t come close to this.

How stupid of Viktor to feel almost enamored by this, practically, stranger.

Yuuri let go of him to continue with his private party, and things started to heat up sooner than later, and pieces of clothing soon started to fall off. If someone told him an hour before that he would see pole dancing at the banquet, he would’ve laughed for eternity. But it happened. And he took as much pictures as possible, of course.

But it didn’t stop there. A _ficus_ received the most sexy lap dance in history, and Yuuri had a beat boxing solo after setting off the fire alarm until one of the waiters turned the thing off. Maybe this got a little out of control, but this was certainly a night that all the people present would never forget.

When fatigue started to affect our Japanese dancer, his coach tried to help him put his clothes on; but Yuuri wasn’t having any of that. Pants off and just as much wasted as before, Yuuri approached him again after challenging Yuri, once again, to another dance battle for the crown.

To everyone’s surprise, Katsuki Yuuri trapped Viktor between his arms and started to _grind_ against him.

“Viktor… when the season ends, I’ll be helping at my parents’ onsen, so please come see me,” he said in fluent Japanese. Viktor stared at him from his position, not pulling away for saying anything. After all his Japanese was awful. “If I win this dance battle you will be my coach, right?”

The guy’s face was a complete mess, but his big brown eyes were everything that Viktor could see at the moment. He didn’t understand a word Yuuri was saying, but he could tell something just from looking into those tired eyes.

“Be my coach, Viktor!” now speaking English, Yuuri threw his arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

Something twisted inside of Viktor and he felt his face blush.

Was this the feeling of being… _captivated_ by someone?

Whatever it was, Viktor was glad Katsuki Yuuri called dibs on him. Because he was calling dibs on him too.

 

“I-I wasn’t _that_ drunk, was I?” Yuuri asked. When Chris mentioned the pole dance it all started to sound fishy. He was _terrified_ to learn the answer, but he needed to know.

Chris snorted. There was an amused smirk on his face. “You gave a ficus a lap dance.”

“You set off the fire alarm and started beat boxing to it,” a pissed Yurio added.

“Oh and he also danced a waltz with a champagne bottle! Remember that?” the more events Christophe listed, the more Yuuri wanted death.

By the time Viktor decided to add his five cents, Yuuri was already so shrink in his own chair that you could barely see his face. And what Viktor said was the thing that embarrassed him the most:

“I walked into the room and you yelled _‘dibs!’_ ”

A long silence followed, and Yuuri only spoke again when Christophe started laughing.

“I WILL NEVER DRINK AGAIN, IN MY LIFE.”

If Yuuri had known that that was the night he stole Viktor’s heart, perhaps he wouldn’t give up on alcohol so easily.

**Author's Note:**

> You guys can follow me @viktorkatsudon on tumblr! Thanks so much for reading c:


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